


We Were Supposed To Fall Together

by accurst_writer



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, i like giving the careers emotions, theres some... spicy implications in one section
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23984221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accurst_writer/pseuds/accurst_writer
Summary: Cato's point of view on his life, and his thoughts on a certain knife-thrower from his district.
Relationships: Cato/Clove (Hunger Games)
Kudos: 20





	We Were Supposed To Fall Together

**Author's Note:**

> The italics are his internal thoughts, and every squiggly line ~ thing shows that time has passed.

I stared across the training area at the new kid. She was tiny, but she was staring around like she was above everything. “Stuck-up” I muttered, picking up a sword and turning my attention back to the dummies. “I bet she can’t even fight.”

_So why do I keep losing focus on my sword training to glance at her?_

_~_

Her name turned out to be Clove. And I turned out to be wrong about her not being able to fight. Her weapon of choice is knives, she’s 9, making her a year younger than me, and can beat girls three years older than her in a fight.

_When did I learn all this stuff about her?_

_~_

“You’re Cato, right? One year above me, so you’re 11. You can use a spear in a pinch, but your favourite weapon is a sword. You’re good enough that the sword trainers can’t keep up, and you have to train against Brutus. Also you need to be less obvious when staring at me. Have a nice day!”

She waved at me all cheerfully and skipped off, the very picture of an innocent child.

“Wait, Clove-“

“Uh-huh?” She turned, twirling a knife between her fingers effortlessly.

“Do you want to be training partners?”

_Why did I care?_

_~_

“You should’ve seen the look on his face. He couldn’t believe it. A girl 4 years below him, winning without a scratch!”

I grin. Clove’s opponent is sitting on the other side of the ring, nursing a stab wound in his arm.

“I didn’t see the look on his face, actually. I was too busy avoiding his mace. I thought spiked weapons weren’t allowed in the training ring, but this scrape says otherwise.” She rolled up her sleeve and showed me a small scratch on her arm, swiping her hand over it dismissively as blood started to seep out. “Oh for fuck’s sake. I don’t need to stain another uniform.”

I pull a bandage out of my pocket and wrap it around her arm. Overkill, for such a tiny scratch? Probably. That bandage wasn’t going to get used otherwise. I don’t fight people twice my size, I’m not as stupid as she is.

_When did I start carrying bandages for her?_

_~_

“Oi, jackass, get up.” The older kid kicked at me, where I was lying on the floor, with the definite taste of blood in my mouth.

“Fuck you.” I spat. “You’re just jealous that I’ll be allowed to volunteer one day.” I tried to get to my feet, but the room swum before my eyes.

“Hey, dickwad! No-one calls Cato a jackass but me!” A small ball of fury flew across the room, knife in hand. The older guy obviously didn’t see her weapon, and started to jeer at her. “Oh, you’re his girlfriend. I remember. The little short kid. Don’t you know that relationships aren’t allowed?”

I push myself to a sitting position.

“She isn’t my girlfriend. We’re just training partners. And friends. And by the way, no-one calls Clove short but me.”

He just laughed, and, ignoring Clove, made to kick at my head, where I was almost certain I could feel blood dripping.

He wasn’t laughing later.

Clove crouched down next to me, helped me to my feet, grabbed the bandage out of my pocket, and wrapped it around my head. “C’mon. I’m getting you to the infirmary. You’ve got blood all over you.”

_When did I start considering her a friend?_

_~_

It had been a tough training day, so we both agreed to skip our last class and meet up in the weapons workshop. It was technically off-limits for students, but no-one ever checked. I was sitting on the floor, polishing a couple of knife blades that Clove had made, while she leaned at a nearby workbench, carefully carving detail into some handles. We were joking and chatting about everything, about the Hunger Games, as it was the 72nd in a few days, and training scores were getting released tonight.

“Do you think you’ll volunteer soon?”

I nod, barely looking up. “Maybe in a couple years, yeah. I mean, it’s what I’ve trained my whole life for. I’d have to be an idiot not to. Why, are you having second thoughts about going in?”

She laughed.

“As if. I was just thinking, we haven’t had a Victor in a couple years. You’ll have to change that.”

Clove moved over from her workbench and leant down next to me, holding a knife handle. “What do you think?”

“It’s good.”

I was worryingly distracted, the way she was leaning over my shoulder, her hair tickling my neck, her face too close to mine.

“Hey, Clove?”

“Mhm?” She turned her head to look at me, and I could even feel her breath on my cheek.

“This doesn’t mean anything” I breathed, and turned my own head to her, and, hoping she didn’t stab me, I kissed her.

_Why did I do that?_

_~_

“This doesn’t mean anything” soon became our catchphrase.

“This doesn’t mean anything” make-out sessions in the workshop.

“This doesn’t mean anything” sneaking to each other’s dorms after lights out.

“This doesn’t mean anything” sitting a little too close at breakfast, my hand on her knee.

“This doesn’t mean anything” amidst the litany of scars on both our bodies, the fresh wounds shaped suspiciously like each other’s names.

“This doesn’t mean anything”

_It doesn’t, right? I’m not in love. Love is a distraction from winning. Whatever Clove and I have is just for fun._

_~_

“I volunteer.” I walk confidently up to the stage, hiding my anger. The Academy only told me this morning, that the female tribute who was supposed to volunteer has been severely injured. The Academy had to make a last minute choice for this year’s girl tribute.

“I volunteer!”

I feel sick

“Lovely, darling! What’s your name?”

She’s only 15

“Clove Kentwell.”

_But why did it have to be her?_

_~_

I make the decision that I want her to hate me. If she thinks I’m a traitor, it won’t hurt her when I die. When. Not if. When, because that’s what I have to do, so she can win.

“We haven’t had a Victor in a couple years. You’ll have to change that.” I mutter. She said that to me, two years ago. Now she’s the one I want to win.

The District 1 girl annoys the hell out of me. Flirting with everyone, her district partner, even Cesar Flickerman. And me.

Somehow, I say to Glimmer all the things I wish I could have said to Clove. I let her cuddle with me, every night in the arena. Clove is glaring metaphorical daggers at us both. Good.

_This doesn’t mean anything. For once, I say it doesn’t and I am right. To me, it really doesn’t. Would Clove forgive me, if I told her that?_

_~_

“Clove, please. Stay with me. Please. We have to win!” I cradle her head in my lap. I can see the dent in her skull. The pragmatic side of me is saying that there’s no way she’ll survive that. The emotional, hopeful side, the part of me that should have been crushed years ago, is clinging to the hope she’ll pull through. She carefully moves one hand up to touch my face. A fleeting smile crosses her features, and I am overcome with desperation to save her. I automatically reach into my pocket for the bandage, but we’re not in the Academy, we’re in the Arena, and I don’t have a bandage. My hand digs in my pocket, as though if I try hard enough, I’ll pull a bandage from the lining of my trousers. I don’t even think a bandage would save her, at this point.

“Cato...” She whispered quietly. Her voice was fading, but I had to tell her.  
“Clove… you know all those times we told each other ‘this doesn’t mean anything’?” Her grip on my jacket was loosening. “To me, it always meant something.”

I see my own tears landing on her face as she smiles weakly. She opens her mouth and tries to say something, but her voice isn’t working and all that comes out is air. She slowly moves her hand into her jacket, and pulls out a throwing knife, which she hands to me, gluing it into my hand with her blood.   
“Thank you” I whisper.

Clove’s cannon fires, and I let the anger overcome me.

“I will find him, and I will kill him. For you.”

_She wasn’t supposed to die. How am I supposed to go on?_

~

Ignoring the rain beating down on my head, I walk through the tall plants. One hand is in my jacket pocket, holding the knife Clove gave me, the other is clutching a large rock I’ve been carrying for the past hour.   
When I find the boy from Eleven, he’s sleeping. Carefully, I poke him awake with the tip of Clove’s knife. He won’t get away from me this time.

_It was only fair to kill him with a rock. He deserved the same undignified death he gave Clove, right?_

When I finally got the backpack with “2” on it, I opened it, and found some armour. It would protect me against 12’s arrows. What broke me, however, was the second set of armour.

_She isn’t around to wear it._

_~_

I have the District 12 boy in a headlock, and his supposed girlfriend is pointing an arrow at my face. “Go on. Shoot. Then we both go down and you win.”

_I don’t care about winning. Not without Clove._

“Go on. I’m dead anyway. I always was, right? I didn’t know that till now.”

_They always told me, at the Academy, that winning would be the best thing I could do._

“How’s that, is that what they want, huh? No. I can still do this.”

_Enobaria and Brutus are probably screaming at me to stop talking and finish the Games. To win. Talking for too long is what killed her…_

“I can still do this. One more kill.”

_It doesn’t matter to me, but if Fire Girl has to win, she doesn’t deserve to have someone to share her pain with. She deserves to know how it feels to be alone, like me._

“It’s the only thing I know how to do. Bring pride to my district.”

I feel the boy tapping on the back of my hand, and vaguely understand their plan.

_The Academy was wrong. Me winning won’t bring pride to District 2. We’ve had enough Victors. All that I can do now is die._

“Not that it matters.”

_Not without her._


End file.
